


milestones of a blinking heart

by oopshidaisy



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dating, Domestic, End of Date Reports, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:18:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oopshidaisy/pseuds/oopshidaisy
Summary: “What’s so interesting about them, anyway?” Cecil asks. “It’s like you’ve never even seen them before.”Carlos glances over at him. “I haven’t,” he says. “Oh,” Cecil says. “Carry on, then.”





	

i.

Their second date is four days subsequent to the first; they sit on a park bench and watch the spontaneous combustion of child-eating butterflies while Carlos diligently makes notes and Cecil diligently holds his left hand.

Carlos is drinking coffee and Cecil is drinking something that possibly, at a stretch, _resembles_ coffee, but seems to be a marbled combination of the colours violet and emerald, with silvery whipped cream forming a smooth dome on top. Carlos is occasionally eyeing the mixture with a healthy measure of scepticism. When Cecil offers him a sip, he hesitates before accepting, and seems surprised by the appealing, warring tastes of blueberry and dragon fruit. As he returns the cup he brushes a kiss across Cecil’s cheekbone, leaving in his wake a high blush that is – inexplicably, and certainly unscientifically – purple. It’s just one of those things that Carlos doesn’t ask about, like the curiosity of how Cecil’s eyes seem to, in some way, mirror the fluctuations of lunar cycles.

“What’s so interesting about the butterflies, anyway?” Cecil asks. “It’s like you’ve never even seen them before.”

Carlos glances over at him. “I haven’t,” he says.

“Oh,” Cecil says. “Carry on, then.”

They kiss outside Carlos’s door after Cecil walks him back. Cecil starts giggling because the happiness wants to burst out of him some way, and that’s the way it chooses. Carlos starts laughing, too, and they pass the sound between their lips until one of them manages to pull away. It feels ridiculous, but Carlos can’t quite let the smile drop as he lets himself into his lab.

 

ii.

When Cecil finds out Carlos can cook, his third eye flashes briefly, brightly gold – which is unusual since the flashes are generally considerably less metallic. Carlos smiles – perfectly – and explains that cooking is simply an application of scientific principles and so, yes, of course he can.

Cecil kisses him.

It’s a quick, excited peck of a thing, barely long enough for Carlos’s eyes to flicker shut. Carlos blushes. Cecil grins, bites his lip.

It takes some time for Carlos to find a recipe containing no wheat or wheat by-products (which he usually eats in private, in full view of the secret police, but he has no idea what Cecil would do with that knowledge). He eventually settles on a kind of wheat-free pasta with white wine sauce and it’s just on the edge of showing off, but Cecil doesn’t seem to mind. He clears his bowl with a sharp-toothed, grateful smile and they finish a bottle of wine between them, end up cuddled on Carlos’s small sofa with a documentary about sharks playing in the background. Cecil falls asleep to the beat of Carlos’s heart.

 

iii.

It’s been four months and Carlos is sleeping at Cecil’s apartment three nights out of every seven, has his own side of the bed and his own toothbrush on the bathroom shelf and his own DVDs littering the floor near what could generously be described as a TV. (He hadn’t been able to believe that Cecil had never watched a single superhero film before. It had demanded a marathon, during which Carlos had pointed out every single scientific improbability present in the movies. Cecil started kissing him halfway through _The Incredible Hulk_ , conceivably with the pure intention of preventing a litany of angry rants.)

There are pairs of Carlos’s socks on the bedroom floor and sometimes Cecil only needs to look at them to put a smile on his face. For all his dedication to plain white labcoats, Carlos is somewhat ‘out there’ with his socks. It’s adorable.

Cecil rarely stays over at Carlos’s, which admittedly houses an expansive variety of questionable chemicals and contains only a single bed. But, even so, there’s a purple tie under the couch and a pair of semi-sentient cufflinks hiding resolutely in the fridge. Every time they skitter towards the butter to avoid Carlos’s reaching hands, he finds himself oddly compelled to text Cecil about it. Cecil never takes longer than a couple of minutes to reply, provided he’s not on air. Sometimes his responses are gibberish to Carlos, strings of symbols he enjoys deciphering in his spare time, getting to the meaning underneath.

“Don’t be silly,” Cecil says when he mentions it. “It’s not _coded_. Are you feeling okay?”

So it’s one of those Night Vale things, a quirk that quickly becomes more familiar than concerning. He’s growing steadily more accustomed to life in this little town, learning to thrive under constant surveillance and taking the responsibility of filling out end-of-date reports. It feels, he thinks, like home.

 

iv.

END OF DATE REPORT: SEPTEMBER 17TH 2013

NAME: Carlos. (the scientist.)

NAME OF DATE: Still Cecil Palmer. (the radio host.)

NUMBER OF PREVIOUS DATES: I don’t know…25? Maybe? I’m not really keeping count. It’s Cecil’s turn next time, I’m sure he can tell you.

LOCATION OF DATE: Cecil’s apartment.

BE MORE SPECIFIC: Well, his kitchen and subsequently his bedroom.

DATE ACTIVITIES: I cooked lasagne.

WITH WHEAT? No, not with wheat.

OR WHEAT BY-PRODUCTS? No, there were no wheat by-products.

WOULD YOU MIND SHARING THE RECIPE WITH THE SECRET POLICE – THIS WHOLE BAN ON WHEAT AND WHEAT BY-PRODUCTS HAS REALLY REDUCED THE RANGE OF MEALS WE CAN COOK. Yeah, sure, I’ll do that.

OTHER DATE ACTIVITIES: Nothing.

YOU KNOW WE WERE WATCHING, RIGHT? Yes.

THEN TELL THE TRUTH. Oh, for god’s sake: we had sex.

BE MORE SPECIFIC: No thank you.

FINE. BUT THIS IS GOING IN YOUR SECRET FILE AND IT DOESN’T LOOK GOOD FOR YOU. Whatever, just listen to Cecil’s broadcast tomorrow – I’m sure he’ll say something wildly inappropriate about it.

HOW LONG, IN TOTAL, DID YOU SPEND TOGETHER? About 12 hours – I fell asleep there.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR CANDOR. WE’RE LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR NEXT DATE!

 

So, really, Carlos still isn’t great at filling in the end-of-date reports. He likes to think he’s getting better.

 

v.

The first time Cecil meets Carlos’s family, it’s been eight months and Carlos’s mother is practically screeching at him down the phone in her desperation to meet the young man her son speaks so highly of.

“I don’t know if he really…likes leaving Night Vale,” Carlos says, which is another way of saying he’s not sure if Cecil _can_.

“I can come visit you!” his mom responds.

“No!” he says, too quickly. “No, that’s fine. I’ll ask him about it. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

When he brings it up, Cecil’s shadow starts vibrating and his grin showcases each of his sharp teeth. Carlos wonders how he’s going to explain all of that to his parents and his sister – the way Cecil never seems quite human, although Carlos has it on scientific grounds that he is. Cecil’s got three eyes and a shadow with a mind of its own, when he blushes it’s like lavenders are brushing the layers of his skin and his freckles, when they catch the light, glow shimmering silver. It’s not that he’s worried about his family’s reaction, exactly: he’s alluded to the many abnormalities of Night Vale enough that they must have some idea by now. He is, however, apprehensive about Cecil being in public, attracting the stares and unwanted attention of strangers.

They make plans, though, and Cecil seems excited right up until the day they’re set to leave, when he empties his wardrobe onto the floor of their bedroom and sits despondently on the pile of multi-colored clothes, looking uncertainly up at his boyfriend. “What if they don’t like me?” he says.

“They’ll love you,” Carlos replies, because they will. He goes to sit beside Cecil, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing his temple. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He knows Cecil doesn’t believe him, but he does manage to assemble an outfit for the day (“Are heels too much?” he asks fretfully. “I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”) and they leave the city limits without any adverse effects. Once they leave the city limits, Cecil’s third eye smooths out into the blankness of a normal forehead. Carlos, to his surprise, sort of hates it. He brushes the spot where they eye used to be with his thumb and when he voices his disappointment, Cecil laughs at him. “Of course it’s only there when I’m in Night Vale, silly.” Carlos nods: _of course_.

 

vi.

Carlos’s dad cooks for them, a meal stuffed full of all the wheat and wheat by-products that they’ve been missing; Cecil looks slightly scandalised for a moment, before Carlos nudges their feet together and smiles, and then Cecil’s digging in and complimenting the chef between mouthfuls, impeccably polite and just as charming as Carlos had known he’d be.

His mother is practically in love by the end of the night, cheeks warming up when Cecil tells her what a wonderful home she has, his voice dropping into the radio presenter register that turns Carlos’s insides to liquefied caramel. Cecil even manages to win over Carlos’s sister, who’s never approved of a single one of his boyfriends in the past. (“He’s a bit… _odd_ ,” she says, when they’re alone in the kitchen. Her tone is approving.)

They sleep together in Carlos’s not-quite-childhood bed – it’s a three-quarter size one that he acquired when he moved back home after college – still smaller than the one they share in the apartment that’s now more _theirs_ than Cecil’s. Cecil’s toes are always cold, and he tucks them against Carlos’s calves, curls himself small against his boyfriend’s side. Carlos strokes meaningless patterns against his back until his breathing evens into the rhythmic sighs of sleep. He stays awake slightly longer, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to his ceiling. His passion for science had arisen early, and sign-posts of his youthful obsession litter the room. It would be embarrassing if Cecil hadn’t regarded it all with something approaching reverence, cataloguing every detail of his partner’s childhood. He even thought Carlos looked adorable in the worst of his high school photos. The smile that brings to Carlos’s lips lingers as he drifts off to sleep, warm and content – surrounded by all the people who love him most.

 

vii.

When they get back home – and it _is_ home, now, though Carlos isn’t sure when that became the truth of it – Cecil flops down onto their bed and his third eye blinks up at the ceiling and he says, “Not much changed while we were gone. Well, a trans-dimensional void ripped opened outside the library, but no one was there to get sucked in except a few librarians. An overall win, wouldn’t you agree?”

A few months ago Carlos would have felt the need to rush over to the scene. He would’ve taken measurements until his hand cramped around the pen, and his voice would have grown hoarse as he frantically dictated into a recorder. Tonight, though, all he wants to do is heat up the leftovers his mom gave them, maybe visit Khoshekh in the radio station’s bathroom. He wants to sit outside and look at the glowing lights in the sky with his hand tangled in Cecil’s; he wants to say hi to an angel that does, most assuredly, exist, and he wants to fall asleep beside his boyfriend while the sounds of their town settle in waves around them.

The way Cecil looks at him, it seems like he understands. He smiles in the way he reserves for Carlos, gentle and private, embedding in Carlos’s chest and expanding in curling patterns across his skin. “I love you,” he says, and it’s a little out of the blue but Cecil understands, always understands. He doesn’t parrot the words back, but his tattoos crowd into little hearts swirling around his wrists and forearms. When Carlos reaches out and touches they scatter, then congregate in the spaces around his fingers.

“That tickles,” Cecil says.

“I know it does,” Carlos responds warmly, brushing his hands over the swarms of ink. He says, “I’ve missed it here.”

“I know you have,” Cecil replies.

**Author's Note:**

> so wtnv!! my friends tried to tell me about it years ago but i never managed to get into it until now! uni's been super stressful so i've been listening to the podcasts to help me sleep (and walk between classes, and eat dinner, and sit on the train - you get the idea). what i love about cecil and carlos is how sweet & healthy their relationship is as it progresses, so i did my best to capture that. it doesn't really fit in with the timeline but,, i tried. 
> 
> i also tried to be american even though i am not. all of those mistakes are just me being a stupid english girl.
> 
> if u want to see my obsession play out, i'm @elliehopes on tumblr or @Ellie_Hopes on twitter so u can find and chat with me there. please leave whatever feedback u see fit, my loves xx


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